


Molly Go Lightly

by Ben1899



Series: MOLLY [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-21 03:00:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16151144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ben1899/pseuds/Ben1899
Summary: Set after Season 4 of the BBC/PBS Sherlock Holmes.Molly Hooper is trying to move on, desperately.  She's done all the things any normal person would do in transition from a bad break-up: cut her hair, changed her outward habits, and recommitted to her job as a pathologist at St. Barts.  Feeling as though she might have some chance of moving on with life and not* being romantically consumed by a one sided relationship with any sociopaths - let alone high functioning ones.  Working late on a full moon night at the hospital Molly is shocked to find the cadaver in her Pathology exam table is not as it appears.





	1. The Dead Mans Request

**Author's Note:**

> I am not* a Sherlock super-fan, nor do I own any rights to any of the characters mentioned. This is my first try at fan-fiction, or writing in general - and like most who watch Sherlock - I am a sympathizer with Molly Hooper's role in the re-imagining of 'the worlds first consulting detective.' 
> 
> I hope you'll forgive my rantings and go easy on the reviews. Thanks!

Late and quiet, ‘deadly quiet.’ Molly Hooper thought and snorted to herself. St. Barts was always quiet at 3am though, especially in Pathology. Tonight was a full moon, and hospitals always get an unusual surge of people on the night of a full moon.  
“Not sure why” Molly Hooper mumbled over the top of her paper cup, the loud hum of music filling her mind from the ear buds she wore. Molly adjusted herself at the microscope, tucking a loose hair behind one ear. She’d cut it off, time for a change, time to move on. She sighed. No. She would not think about *that phone call. 

“Work, Molly.” She said quietly to herself. There was always a steady flux of bodies in pathology. This was London. One of the largest cities in the world, and no shortage of crime there. That’s why she liked it, busy. One corner of her mouth turned up abscently as she looked away from her microscope to jot down notes on her latest ‘patient’. She liked to look at them as patients, not victims. Too many doctors in pathology only saw victims, a shame, she thought. So many peoples crimes unsolved, their lives & the lives of their families never closed, never brought full circle so life could march on. The patient and their family deserved closure, they deserved better - if anyone knew the bitter taste of closure it was her. When the person on the slab before you is just a thing, a victim, you de-personalize them, discard them, the work, the gift of insight that pathology offers becomes secondary to moving the body out of the freezer and into a grave - you miss things when you aren’t looking at the person, just the quota. Maybe that’s why she was here, late, and then again - maybe it was just being busy that she craved.

She jumped at the sound of the swinging doors thumping loudly, squeaking wheels crashing, looking up she saw one of the aides from the ER wheeling in the latest ‘patient’. She pulled her ear buds out, smiling at the aide warmly, quietly, respectfully for the task he brought her was never easy, but this *was* a hospital & death was always something compartmentalized as a trade amongst those who worked to save lives - not process bodies. 

“Got a fresh one for you.” he said, lining up the black bagged figure, clip board hanging from a peg at the end, he took it after positioning the cart under one of the large LED overhead lamps, holding it out for her. She rose, steadily, taking the board and thoughtfully glancing over the time of death and particulars. She sighed, glancing over the photo ID left attached. Why was it always the pretty ones. “Male, 37” he said.

“- 38.” she corrected, irritated by his inaccuracy - it was disrespectful, the least someone could do when you’re dead was get your bloody age right.

The aide looked at her with raised eyebrows, and corrected himself by clearing his throat. “...38, found out front of the hospital already gone” he shrugged “bagged him up in the ER and wheeled him down here, We’re all full tonight, full moon and all. He’s barely had time to cool down!” he chuckled.  
She glanced at him, narrowing her eyes in a glare - really? - what a pratt. She rolled her eyes and focused on the clipboard again. “He hasn’t been processed through records yet?” She was disgusted. Through was one thing, but inept was another, there were rules, procedures before a body came down to pathology.  
The aide cleared his throat again. “Well...attending said to just get him out of the way, we needed the room see...full moon and all…”  
She looked at him agape, clenching her jaw, pursing her lips together in a show of her displeasure, the aide’s eyes widened looking uncomfortable under her stare. She sat the clipboard down on top of the body bag and glancing under the table saw the mans things had been hastily shoved into a tray from the ER, not even tagged. Learning both hands on the cold metal table she just nodded, dropping her seething eye contact from the annoying aide. “Alright, I’ll take care of it.” He relaxed and backed out of the room nodding, the doors swung back and forth abscently in his hurried escape from her anger. She signed, and rolling her eyes turned back to the lab to find what she needed for a proper processing.

\---------------  
It was dark, black even. Sebastian Moran had a headache, a big one. He felt like he’d been hit by a car, several in fact. How long had he been out? He Shifted, his body cold, naked, panicking for a moment, he groped with hazey fingers to make out what, where, he was. His eyes adjusting to the black plastic and the press of a cold metal zipper against his skin. He heard footsteps, and froze again.  
He was an ex-colonel from his majesty's royal army, a sniper - special forces - and lately - for hire by whoever. Taken prisoner more than once by terrorists group in too many countries to list, he knew how to survive, lower his breathing, steady himself. Was this another one of those hostage scenarios? ‘No.’ He thought, the haze of his thoughts clearing to give him memory of where he last remembered his surrounding to be.  
A bright light clicked on, the rays shining through the teeth of the zipper. He heard a rustling immediately beside himself, a faint scent, formaldehyde, vanilla, lemon...his stomach felt so ill he thought he’d throw up, an after effect of whatever those wankers at the Hellfire Club pushed into his neck, swallowing carefully, he closed his eyes, hearring the ‘zzzip’ as the light flooded his vision behind closed lids, blinding. Then Sebastian heard a deep sigh. 

“God, you’re handsome...such a waste.” She was disgusted by the way people discarded precious life. A quote from *him came up word to her thoughts:

Molly Memory:  
<”...Death only affects one person after all…”>  
Memory End:

She clenched her jaw, Molly’s eyes roamed over his face, he had mid-brown hair, with a red hint to it. Pale skin, his jaw was set, strong, a 2 day shadow of hair along his face. All his features were square, lips, ears, & eyes…’what color I wonder…’ she thought quietly to herself, looking at his photo ID, “blue.”  
She said this out loud softly, an edge to it, biting her bottom lip, a memory like an irksome ghost flashed through her unseen vision of another set of blue eyes. She frowned, ‘No - that won’t do’ and dismissed the thought.

No visible wounds, no blood, He *was fresh* he almost looked still alive. Pulling on her gloves one at a time, she looked at the clipboard again, finding a name and details from his ID. “Hmm...military…” Huffing in almost a laugh “A lot good all that training did you tonight.” She adjusted the tools on the tray beside her then turned again to him and the clipboard looking for a name. “Sebastian Moran, huh, you don't happen know all the lyrics to ‘under the sea’ Mr. Moran?” She snorted to herself. 

Inwardly he was laughing, whoever this woman was, her sense of humor was at best ridiculous. He gathered, that he was dead...or atleast this individual *thought* he was dead. The way she talked suggested that she wasn't squeamish either, around a dead body. She was adjusting something to his side - metal tools? He did his very best to fulfill the role he was given currently as cadaver.

She turned on the overhead microphone, carefully removing the clipboard back to it’s proper home on the tray of items beside her and finished unzipping the bag, her breath caught, this was almost cruel. He wasn't just handsome he was gorgeous, chiseled in fact.  
“Well, your training paid off in one way.” She joked, It made her blush.  
She cleared her throat - “Alright Doctor, back to work.” Molly’s best professional voice rang out. “January 11th….3:46am...patient is male, 38, no visible marks to indicate method of death…” her hands shifted on the metal table, ‘odd’, she thought, her eyes narrowing brow furrowed, He looked so...well... healthy.  
Frustrated, she turned the microphone off - tea, she definitely needed a cup of tea. She removed her gloves setting them aside with her tools. Rubbing her grey eyes, she was tired, and seeing things, obviously. Third shift was messing with her. Or maybe just the full moon theory was right? Seems silly to think so. She chuckled, still rubbing her tired eyes, “...We really do get the ‘coolest’ patients down here in pathology.”

‘Oh..’ He thought, this girl was too corny. He’d always liked dark humor. Maybe that’s why he chose the path he did in life, death was an easy subject for him too. Sitting with the other special forces officers after a raid on some terrorist cell in...where?...Oh well, it didn’t matter. The flash of James Moriarty's face, insane with the remnant of a dark joke ripe on the lines of his intensity. Hadn’t thought of Jim in a while. Hadn’t really thought of anything for a while. ‘Dishonorably discharged.’ After all the missions, all the dirty work he did for ‘King and country’. The feckless aftermath of the Iraq war, Afghanistan, and terrorists didn’t fight fair - why should’ve He? Jim gave him a job again, a purpose, for a while…

Sebastian Memory:  
<<”gun for hire, right hand man Seb...like old times…” The intense pleasure in his dark mad eyes looking over the distance. James Moriarty was chewing gum, clothed in a dark blue perfectly tailored suit, he pulled a pair of earbuds and an ipod out of the breast pocket of his jacket.

Sebastian glanced at him sideways. Then focused on the landscape in front of him, grey, bleek, it was a rainy day on the coast of ireland spitting rain randomly came from above. The ocean swirled and writhed against the oncoming storm ahead. “Didn’t ever take you for nostalgic Jimmy.” The familiarity had an ironic tone in it, they were familiar alright, but not really ‘friends’; in the field there were no friends. He and James Moriarty had served together on several missions back then. Terrorist cell takedowns, Regime’s that needed stalled or started, all for the pleasure of Her Majesty and Allies. He’d worked with alot of ‘mad bugger's’ - the nickname given all intelligence officers. But James was different, ruthless, dogged & calculatingly smart. He didn't just come in with a file folder of information and walk back to his cubicle, no, it was personal, it was….a game.

“Yeah well...you know I love a good holiday now and then….easter...halloween…” James voice was jestful the madness in it echoed against the crash of water on the cliffs below them, James seemed to be twirling thoughts around in his mind as chaotic as the water flipping below them - Sebastian imagined flashes of roasted rabbits and headless corpses in funny masks.  
Sebastian was brought back to the space between the two men, as James continued all humor gone “ but this…*this* is something special.” He seemed eager, not just on edge of madness but...excited. “This is gonna be the best yet Tiger.”

He hated that nickname, earned as it was, after the incident that lead him to be discharged a ‘Hunt’ for one group of anti-western terrorist cell groups that had ended, brutally with Sebastian in a dark hole, covered in blood after a ruthless mass-execution by himself - the entire cell - everyone there. Sebastian had been caught up in the blood lust of it all, driven by the non-stop mission, craving the feeling and adrenaline a kill brought. Still, Sebastian's appetite was unquenchable then, maybe still even now. That’s what he knew, his identity now.

“Oh?” Sebastian kept his eyes straight, not daring look at the man beside him again, shifting his jacket collar against the wind. “And what makes this job so exciting to the ‘world's only consulting criminal’?” he chuckled at the title, having read the rumors about James and his last toy...a Sherlock Holmes...brilliant like James, even mad maybe, but not as...exoticly dangerous, he thought. He glanced at James Moriarty's face, the flash of pleasure on it as he raised the ear buds to his ears. 

“It’s a family reunion.” And James blew a large pink bubble from his gum, it popped.

James Moriarty turned walking away cooly to the helicopter landing in the distance behind them. Sebastian shrugged at his coat again, glancing at the dark skies and then turned, following this mad would-be King of villains to whatever the next mission was, not sure if he’d see the storm come to an end and the sun shine again. Not knowing if he even cared that He did see the sun again.>>  
Memory End

Molly rubbed her neck now, rolling her head back on her shoulders. Looking down at the body before her again focusing her eyes on the side of his neck “Hello...what’s that?” She knew she shouldn’t, but fingers compelled forward any ways, ungloved, to touch the puncture wound she just spotted. 

Her eyes widened and she swallowed hard, *warmth.*  
She staggered back with one step, her foot catching the wheel of the tool table at her right, sending everything on it crashing around in a disordered array of clanging metal and clipboard. 

It was all slow then. Like an action scene from some crime thriller she’d watched on telly late at night.

Sebastian opened his eyes, hand grabbing for the fingers that had just touched him, small, slight, trembling now in realization that he was not, in fact a cadaver, but alive, breathing, moving. His lips curled up conscious of the shock he’d just given this small framed woman. His fingers closed on her wrist, and with the skill of training and experience someone in his line of work would have, he’d managed to stand, bare feet slapping on the tile ground as he did, twist her arm behind her back and simultaneously spin her around, holding her writhing arm tight against the back of her white lab coat. His other hand clapping around her small body to cover her mouth tightly a muffled yelp from behind his closed fingers. Panting with the rush of adrenaline he wedged himself against her, squeezing just enough on her trapped arm to let her know he could break her arm when he wanted - if he wanted - but relaxing it enough to not.

“Shhhh..” he breathed into her ear, his bottom lip brushing the pearl earring at the lobe. A strong Irish accent echoing inside her mind “Im not gonna hurt yah Ariel, but move a muscle or cause much of a stir and I’ll make *you sing about something.” 

Her eyes were wide, darting around, and then behind her, eyebrows furrowed, she could barely breath and…wait...did he just crack a joke about the little mermaid? 

Molly’s heart, head and breath raced. She wriggled, feeling the pressure of his grip, the fingers around her lips and jaw tightened, pressing into her face harder. He shifted behinder, better leverage, what were those self defense classes Mrs. Hudson had insisted she took from some guy her ex-mob dead husband knew - what was his name? Vladimire? - good idea, did she have surprise to her advantage?  
She swallowed hard, tensed, if that was possible - and moved, quickly, stomping in the general direction of his foot, but hitting his shin instead and, once released, propelling herself forward. Molly’s body lurched from Sebastian’s, her hands now infront of her, braced against the empty metal slab table which she landed.  
Sebastian laughed, but regained his balance quickly enough. “Why you little…” 

Molly had dodged to the floor, holding up a scalpel in front of her, for some sort of idiotic defense. The idea of her situation wasn’t on her, she was a trained specialist after all - and He was military. Cutting up dead people every day was one thing, but living - well - living people were always harder for Molly Hooper. She watched him smile and stand straight, he was now rubbing his shin, a good gash in it - some blood trickling down. ‘Good.’ Molly thought.

Sebastian took in now the figure in front of him. She was small - very small - everything about her seemed small somehow - except maybe her eyes, grey, neutral, quivering slightly but stern. She wore a white lab coat over dark tailored trousers and a button up lavender blouse, a tea stain just under the collar right in front. Her hair, dark red, cut just below the chin in a blunt bob & wavy - she was ‘mid 30s’ he thought. She wore black oxfords, a solid heel on them - hence his now throbbing shin. She was cute, In an impish sort of way. She had to be tough though, he didn’t know much about the hierarchy of doctors - other than the ones he’d run across on a base hospital or a shady back alley patch up job after some mission - but he didn’t run across many female doctors, even now in the 21st century. Sebastian didn’t run across many women period who knew enough about self defense to catch him off guard.  
Sebastian smirked “Planning on using that? On an unarmed ‘handsome’ man?” He stepped closer not breaking eye contact, it was making her uncomfortable and Sebastian liked to make people uncomfortable.

“Don’t.” Molly slid to her right, moving for the lab door. “I will scream.”  
‘Dumb.’ She thought - whose gonna hear you down here?

“I doubt anyone here is gonna - ‘rise’ to the occasion to save you - everyone seems a bit ‘stiff’ to me.” Sebastian’s sarcasm was given, as he waved a hand in the direction of the refrigerators at their left full of dead bodies.

Molly narrowed her eyes, sneering at his insight. He was right. “I cut people up for a living you know, I am good with a knife.” She raised her brows, swallowing the clinging saliva in her mouth. 

This was getting interesting - This little woman in front of him wasn’t only funny she was almost fun. Sebastian started moving towards her slowly again.

“I bet you are - but I’m not going to hurt you - you did me a favor letting me out of that bag & as you can see…” Sebastian motioned his hands over his naked form “I’m hardly in a state to protect myself from your advance.” 

This made Molly blush, She looked him over again, winced, and lowered the knife. “Sorry, you took me off guard, not used to much life down here.” Molly felt foolish then, ashamed slightly of her forwardness, and looked away from him.  
Sebastian nodded and backed off his advance on Molly “I'm sorry too, I was rough, but..look...Don’t suppose you know what they did with my clothes?” Sebastian asked stammering a bit, relaxing his harms and taking his surroundings in. 

“There, tray under the cart you were on - no one had processed you yet - It’s a full moon tonight, too busy with all the nutters coming in...” Molly regreted her sentence instantly and blushed again.  
Sebastian just smirked at the insinuation he was among the nights ‘nutters’, happy He was having some effect on her again. “Thanks.” Sebastian said, Pulling his things out and quickly getting dressed, glancing at her now and then.

“How did you end up here - at the hospital I mean?” Her curiosity got the best of her. Molly was leaning under the large viewing window against the wall - the moon just waning through the glass of the floor above them. Molly’s shift would be over soon & she had no idea how she was going to explain this evening to the next person on rotation. 

Sebastian looked down at his shoes as he bent to tie the laces. He had been wearing a suit, black, dark grey shirt, no tie. His shirt collar had a dark stain - blood, or was it lipstick? Molly couldn’t tell. She blushed deeper, tucking some menacing hair behind one ear. He stood, smiling at her warmly. It made Molly shift to her other foot. Why was she so uncomfortable around living men? It was agonizing. 

“I was playing cards at some club, I guess the gents I was playing against dont like to lose much.” He smiled, taking her in - ‘was she much of a liability?’ Sebastian wondered ‘- No.’ Sebastian’s gun had been taken at some point - probably by whoever stabbed him in the neck with the needle, hoping he’d look like just another OD'd junkie and dropped his body off at the hospital ER doors hurriedly. He rubbed his neck where the puncture wound was, shrugging. “Eh...no harm no foul. I *was cheating after all.” He smiled absentmindedly, like some sort of inside joke was rolling around in his mind. Sebastian looked up at her again “Just the same...if someone comes looking - for my body I mean - it’d be best if you said I’d “Moved on” Aye?” 

Molly blinked, standing straighter, crossing her arms in front of her body protectively and squaring her shoulders in some sort of brace for her next sentence. “Right.” 

Sebastian nodded in confirmation - she’d keep his ‘Lazarus’ experience to herself then.

He walked towards her, looking straight into her face, amused as she tensed. Then just before her, bent down, picking up the clipboard that for a time, held his ID and all that existed of the presumed dead Sebastian Moran. She was blushing again when he rose, He liked it when she blushed. Peach skin from a farmers market on a warm summer day is what it reminded him of. He waved his ID in one hand and held the clipboard out to her. “Alright then, thanks…?” The question of her name hung in the air like a bubble about to pop.

“Dr. Molly Hooper.” She took the clipboard looking at it, her hands were sweating - why oh why was He standing so close.

Sebastian backed up a step, looking her over and when she looked back up at his face Sebastian Moran was smiling showing a warm, friendly and swoon worthy set of white teeth. Men didn’t usually smile at Molly Hooper, not *that way unless they wanted something. Molly analized him, Sebastian was not* that type, at least, not to someone so unexotic as Molly Hooper. No. They were *not in the same league; she was used to that. But still, she felt a slight skip in her heart, her throat tightened.

Sebastian nodded respectfully “Dr. Hooper, Aye, well - thanks.”

He turned on his heels and left, the swinging doors of the pathology exam room swinging in his leave, she took a deep breath, had she been holding her breath? Watching the empty space he left curiously. 

Then she took in the room around her, tools of her trade scattered, and setting down the clipboard in her hand on the metal table with a clang she relaxed, cooly resuming her normal body posture and sighed. “Right - time to get that tea.” And headed back toward her lab, she’d clean up after her break - God did she need a break.


	2. Thursdays

It was Thursday. Again. Molly Hooper stretched her shoulders, they were always so tight, after Wednesdays. She adjusted her safety glasses with a gloved hand. Concentrating again on the patient on the metal slab table in front of her. With a sucking splosh she removed the stomach into a stainless steel bowl beside her, maybe the contents would determine a bit more about Mrs. Marshall’s last days. Molly heard the familiar tap tap of shoes coming down the hallway outside pathological exam room. ‘Great.’ She smirked grumpily and instead concentrated on all that was before her, about to remove Mrs. Marshall’s large intestines she didn't look up when the doors swung open and a tall dark form stood before her starring. “Hello Sherlock, your fingers are over there.” She motioned with her elbow to a plastic container in the lab mini fridge visible from the clear glass door. 

Sherlock Holmes was analyzing Molly Hooper from the instant he entered the pathology department. ‘She wore perfume - why? Molly never bothered with frivolous things like that. She also had on black eye liner and a lipstick shade that although, alluring on some, gave her narrow lips little flattery. He also noted, was she wearing - tailored clothes under her white lab coat? Yes - black pencil leg trousers, a black collared button down dress shirt under a light grey sweater. Molly wore black oxfords, nothing new there, but they were new too, still polished and squeaking as she shifted on her feet. Hmm...she’d also cut her hair, customary for someone trying to transition after a bad break up, new hair, new clothes, Molly Hooper was trying to move on.’ That made him content, but still, something in the back of his staggering IQ made him pinched, sad. 

Sherlock had, of course explained to her, via Doctor John Watson, that the detective had been in a precarious situation with his unknown sister, Erus. Though, Sherlock himself, never spoke of the phone call and forced hurt he’d placed on Molly to her himself, he still felt guilty for it. But Sherlock was relieved when after a time - Molly had showed up at No. 221B Baker Street - like nothing had happened. Strolling through the open and newly remodeled door, as always. Now though, it was evident by her appearance, she was trying too hard perhaps. 

“You cut your hair.” Sherlock said bluntly. Narrowing his cool gaze over her face, “I liked it longer.” Molly looked up at him sternly from the body on the table, concentration broken, and frowned. “It was time.” Molly said curtly and returned to her work. 

‘Pleasant’ - He thought, ‘I’ll be pleasant and that will suffice for a type of kindness.’

Sherlock’s hands clasped behind his back, he nodded and moved for the container of fingers, “Thank you Molly, do you have any women - mid 20s - maybe 2 days post mortem, it’s for a case - I need to test the…” that’s when he heard them, click,click,click - Heels; designer. Sherlock turned just in time for his breath to catch, thankfully masked by the swoosh of swinging doors and the rain pelting the outside glass above them onto the observing windows outside hallway. Irene Adler sauntered through, unmoved in her reaction to seeing Sherlock, blazen in her stride and purposeful.

“Irene!” Molly said taking off her eye wear and gloves, tossing them beside the stainless steel bowl containing Mrs. Marshall's stomach and intestine. Molly moved towards the striking woman - the woman - and embraced her? Sherlock was caught off guard, he stiffened, but under the glance of Irene, whose face turned from warmth towards Molly under her embrace, looked at Sherlock with eyes that undressed, and uneased him. He cooled his face in an instant once Molly had relinquished her hold of Irene and looked over her shoulder from Irene to him.

“Sherlock, this is Irene Adler, she’s a friend from my university days.” She looked over Irene with warmth. Irene was the picture of elegance. She always looked like she had just stepped out of a glamorous Hollywood picture. Her black hair was set in soft waves around her impeccably flawless makeup. She curved her red lips into a smile, showing perfect teeth and held out a long purple silk gloved hand to Sherlock. He walked closer, cautiously taking it, her grip was firm and familiar. 

“Ms. Adler” Sherlock said amused “University with Molly?” He asked, as if daring her to give information she wasn't ready to give.

“Yes. We took anatomy together” Irene said politely, releasing Sherlock's hand and looking fondly over Molly, “We roomed together, for a while, at Oxford.”

“And what *is it you do Ms. Adler?” Now Sherlock was baiting her for sure.

“She’s a physical therapist.” Molly said enthusiastically. “And one of my dearest friends. She’s been very kind, in bringing me some of my parents things from storage there, in Oxford.” Molly offered in context of Irene’s presence. Molly knew she was a shadow next to Irene, always had been. Molly was a shadow next to most people.

Sherlock smiled, almost laughed out loud at the pomp of this scenario.   
Irene transitioned the conversation with ease, like lifting a feather from a table, being a ‘physical therapist’; Sherlock snorted at the idea; meant she was very talented at moving people and conversations the way she liked. “Yes, We have reservations for lunch to keep, are you ready Mouse?” 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow in que - ‘Mouse? Ah..the squeak of Molly's standard oxfords and her small appearance. Irene had a pet name for everyone apparently. What was His?’ Sherlock wondered.

“Yes, just let me put Mrs. Marshall away first.” She moved from between them, the squeaking wheels left behind Sherlock and Irene as they heard the ‘thump’ of a refrigerator door shut and the ‘swoosh’ of Molly's lab door open and close behind her, Molly's arms full of a large stainless steel bowl containing the rest of ‘Mrs. Marshall.’ 

In an instant Sherlock turned on Irene, her face demure as a cat who’d swallowed a canary.  
“Chums from university...Irene...I didn't know you craved non-carnal relationships.” Sherlock said, insult evident towards her real job as ‘The Woman’ Dominatrix blackmailer to wealthy and elite.

Irene didn't blink, didn't show any sign of emotion other than neutral pleasure at Sherlock's inquiry. Her dark eyes fixed unwavering on Sherlock's blue. “I like what Molly can do with a body.” Irene said curtly. “Besides, I can’t eat alone all the time, you never have taken me up on my offer for dinner.” 

Sherlock sneered, but hearing the swoosh return of Molly Hooper from her lab, he restrained himself. Irene was pleased. Her eyes focused on Molly “Ready?”

Trying to force his control over this absurd scenario Sherlock clumsily blurted in the two women’s direction - “what about my body?” 

Molly and Irene turned, both shared looks of amusement on their faces, causing Sherlock to roll his eyes. “For my case.” He said irritated and ignoring the looks of chided fun between them.

“Get it yourself, Case 13, Over there.” Molly said, *very un-Molly like, Sherlock thought and frowned. 

Irene watched Molly with one perfectly arched brow - then looked at Sherlock, amused by the exchange of confidence her university friend gave. She shrugged her shoulders at him to silently say ‘She’s the boss’ smiled warmly over her friend and they both left, the pathology doors swinging in their absence to a gaping Sherlock Holmes.

\------------

Molly was walking back to her flat. The humm of the city around her. Lunch had been pleasant with Irene. They caught up on life, Irene always listened, she was good that way. The thought made Molly smile, adjusting her bag on one shoulder. Her thought process was interrupted though, the sound of scuffling and yelling bodies in front of her - three foreigners shoving someone around in a circle - shouting at the man in a language Molly didn’t understand. Syrian - maybe? Since the war raged on in Syria - a flux of immigration had been felt all over Europe; especially London where economics still balanced on the razor sharp edge of stability. Molly had seen enough and heard enough of the refugees pass through St. Bart to file away a familiarity with them as a people group. Her eyesight adjusted in the afternoon light and realized, she knew the man that was being shoved around - ‘No...this was too ironic.’ Molly thought. It was though, Sebastian Moran.

She lurched forward, stomach sick - what was she going to do? She reached for her cell phone, but fumbled. Calling the police wouldn’t do much good - besides, with the racket this lot was making, someone else in the area had probably already called. Instead she pulled from her purse the brass knuckles Mrs. Hudson gave her, really, the elderly woman gave the facade of a sweet old lady - but Molly had come to know the ‘colored’ past this woman came from. She gripped the metal rings around her fingers, and marched forward. 

Two men had Sebastian by the shoulders, holding him against the concrete block of the building behind them, as the third punched him in the gut, ‘smack’ followed by a groan and saliva pouring from Sebastian’s mouth.

“Hey - Smile!” Molly shouted, taping this assailant on the shoulder with one hand and squarely, firmly punching him in the nose, a loud ‘crunch’ - blood came pouring like a stuck pig. 

Mmm...ham...something the religious law forbid Muslims from enjoying, which always confused Molly since it was so delicious, God made pig, pig is delicious...cured...smoked.

Molly flashed out of her thoughts, the assailant staggered back, blood soaking his shirt and hands, that was all the window Sebastian needed. He swung violently free and pushed the other two would-be attackers away, sending all three to run away. Sebastian wiped the saliva from his chin. Molly focused on him again.

He had shaved, ‘good - scruffy was cute sometimes’ - but shaved Sebastian looked more like the polished soldier she was sure him to be. His grey t-shirt had been stretched by his would-be attackers and he reached to adjust the cotton zip up hoodie he wore around his shoulders. Then brushing off his jeans, they had dirt acquired from being pushed against the concrete building and looking over to Molly he just said “Smile?” His face spread into a grin, eyebrows raised in amusement.

Molly stifled her own laugh and shrugged as she slipped the silver knuckles back into her bag, adjusting the weight on her shoulders, still sore. “Well, it got his attention.”

Sebastian nodded, scuffing one of the sneakers he wore across the pavement, he still had a hand on his jaw, cautiously looking over Molly Hooper, the small woman he met one unusual night at the St. Bart Morgue and nodded, simply saying “It did work, Thanks.”

“Friends from your card game?” Molly asked, grasping at straws for some conversation to fill the voided silence between them. She raised on the toes of her black patent leather oxfords, flinching the corners of her eyes as the shoes squeaked, pinching her toes. Both of her hands gripped the leather strap of her bag over one shoulder, as if trying to will the weight of it to anchor her body to the earth before it floated away in the wind like a fallen dead leaf left over on the street from winter’s snow melt.

“Would you like to get coffee?” Sebastian said, not responding to her question at all - it wasn’t her business, and it didn't matter. They were the same people from the Hellfire club incident. But the cheating cards were no longer what the terrorist cell was after & it was chance that they came upon him as he was working on his next assignment. To his surprising pleasure, Molly's face turned that same soft peach color he had noticed from their first meeting, and she nodded softly, finally relaxing her white knuckle grip on the straps of her bag and sitting back firmly on her heels, she was nervous, Molly Hooper seemed to be always nervous. He nodded over his shoulder down the street, pointing to a Starbucks sign in the distance. He turned cooly, and barely above the city noise, heard the faint ‘squeak, squeak’ of her shoes following him - rather like a mouse - he thought.

They entered, and a soft chime from the door followed, he pulled out a cafe chair for her, not asking, but just quietly suggesting she sit, He would buy. Rather obediently she slid silently into place, this made Sebastian smile satisfied and he walked to the counter to order.

Molly placed her bag over the back of the wooden chair. Shifting restlessly in the seat. What - was - she doing? Crossing and uncrossing her legs she finally sat both feet firmly on the ground and perched to the edge of her chair on Sebastian's return. He looked at her, like a Tiger about to eat it’s dinner. Unsure if that excited her or terrified her, Molly looked down at the paper cup Sebastian had set in front of her, wrapping her thin fingers around it for warmth. She hadn’t realized until now how cold her hands were. Molly hunched her aching shoulders inward, and mentally was willing the warmth from the cup to flood over the rest of her body, she sighed. 

Sebastian sat across from Molly, studying her body language. He draped his body into the chair, slouching, hoping that might make him seem less threatening. Sebastian wasn’t used to not wanting to look ominous, it was unnatural to him, and by the look of worry on the face of Dr. Molly Hooper, sitting with another person over coffee might be unnatural to her too. He cleared his throat, and took a sip of the warm black coffee in the cup. He then looked downward from Molly to the empty table that separated them.

Molly looked up then, pulled away from her inward thoughts, she turned the paper cup and lifted it to her lips - surprised - tea, lemon. Not coffee. It was her favorite. ‘...How? She thought, but let it slip. Molly swallowed and felt herself relax a bit. “Thank you for the tea, I do prefer it to coffee.”

“Aye, well, being English does come with its stereotypes…” His Irish accent had an edge of condescension in it. The corner of his eyes winched for a moment, ‘why did he say that? Better question, why did he care?’ 

“Broke the guys nose, where did you learn to hit like that? And with knuckles in your bag, didn’t think it was *that dangerous in these nicer neighborhoods yet…” He was amused. The memory of a blood covered sidewalk gave him a surge of pride for her, it was a good solid hit, he didn't think the guy would ever look the same again. The corners of Sebastian’s mouth twitched upward at the thought. 

Molly rolled her eyes and sat backwards, slouching in her chair, but stretching her arms to still hold onto the cup of tea. “...Thank you for the observance of tradition. “ She smiled, eyes flitting from him to her cup, stealing a quick glimpse of his face to measure her response. He looked, amused, maybe even impressed. This made Molly smile a little wider with her closed lips. “A friend...insisted I take self-defense classes. She’s lived an active life and thought I could use them, since I work late at St. Bart’s so often.” 

He looked up at her in admiration for her self-sufficiency and the practicality of her friend, raising his coffee cup to toast her “Well, good show of it then, aye? Lessons paid off. You’ve not only injured my own self the first time we met, but gave ol’ Ahamed a refigured scoul for life. To Dr. Molly Hooper, good with a knife - brutal with a fist.” He chuckled quietly under his breath and took a drink from his cup, relishing the look of mixed disgust and flattery on Mollys face.

Molly opened her mouth to protest, but instead nodded and took another sip of her tea. Smiling as well to his jest. They talked then, at ease. About everything, anything. He asked about her job as a pathologist and she asked about his Irish accent. Both of them carefully avoiding things that would bring their interaction back to awkwardness. Finally Molly Stood, she had taken off the wool pea coat she wore over her clothing at some point, and looking over her shoulder at the barista who was flipping off the ‘open’ sign, then looked back to Sebastian, their cups had run dry hours ago, and yet, He seemed oddly content to just talk to her. She smiled shyly at the thought of someone like him actually wanting to talk at length to her and picked up her jacket to slip it over her shoulders. 

Sebastian stood too, feeling - unsure, something he’d not felt...well...ever. He took both cups, tossing them with ease into the wastebasket near them, and reached for Molly’s bag, easily lifting it from the perch of the chair she had rested on, the straps warm from her body heat resting against them for so long. He smiled gently, ‘was that something his face did? Christ, He was going mental.’ Handing her the bag, now squarely placed on her shoulder he nodded in the direction of the door, following her just outside. The rain from the afternoon had stopped, but it was still cold. He adjusted the zipper of his sweatshirt, shrugging it to move over his shoulders. 

“Can I walk you home? Or maybe you should walk me home aye?” He joked. Sebastian liked joking, it was easier. Molly scoffed, and ran a hand up through her hair. This made him look her over more thoughtfully. He was no stranger to women, but more as objects to relieve some animal instinct. People in general were just Targets, or clients - dollar signs where their heads should be. It made them easier to kill. Molly Hooper was something else, she was warm and cool all at once, like the first gush of spring, whispering that summer was on its way. Sebastian had a normal, ordinary, non-threatening conversation with this woman. He couldn't remember ever having that before. That made him smile.

Molly looked up at Sebastian, he was...smiling again. She swallowed and focused instead on his joke. “Do you want my knuckles?” 

He laughed and pulling his hands from the pockets of his sweatshirt raised them, palm forward in surrender to her prodding. “Nah...I’ll keep my eyes forward this time...no knuckles needed.” 

Molly squared her shoulders nodding “Good night then Mr. Moran.” 

“Good Night Dr. Hooper” Sebastian's blue eyes were burning into Molly's face, she felt a blush creeping again, ‘damn, so handsome.’ She turned on her feet, the scrape and squeak of her shoes sloshing against the sidewalk as she left. ‘Don't look back, don’t look back.’ When she got to the corner she looked, He was gone. She smiled in triumph to herself quietly. “Well..” Molly muttered quietly under her breath “Thursday may be my new favorite day.” She smiled, crossing the street when signaled.

_____________

Wednesday was over. Molly Hooper rubbed the crook of her shoulders and neck with one hand, closing her eyes and kneading the muscle tissue there, willing it to relax. The other hand held onto the over head strap of a subway tube, the motion of forward movement rocking her. She shifted in the brown oxfords, worn, familiar squeak squeak sounding. It had been a long week, a longer Wednesday. But, today was Thursday. She was on her way to meet Irene again, for lunch and that was a bright spot. Molly smoothed the collar of her bright blue button down shirt, then smoothed the grey skater skirt, she shifted, her navy tights were slipping a bit. Could she adjust them without notice from fellow passengers? 

Just on the cusp of trying to adjust her sliding navy tights, Molly heard an Irish accent go “Boo” it had been quiet enough to force her eyes open from thought, but not loud enough to scare Molly or draw much attention from the other passengers. 

Her eyes landed squarely in the middle of a black Mens dress shirt drawn tight across a broad chested man who stood directly across from her. The subway car had stopped and started again, causing Molly and the male body before her to gently lurch with its motion. Her grey eyes moved upwards and she instinctively and nervously tucked a stray wave of red hair behind one ear until she landed squarely on the strong lips and smiling but hungry blue eyes of Sebastian Moran. 

He was amused, as always by Molly Hooper. She had been awkwardly pulling at the tights she wore when he woke her up from behind closed lids. The look of surprise and awkward shyness behind her eyes warmed him, pleased with himself he gestured surrender with the hand not holding onto the over head strap “I am here as a friendly apparition, you having saved my life, twice, Dr. Hooper.”

Molly was irritated now, but not un-stirred by Sebastian Moran’s appearance. His jabbing didn't fall on burning ears though, and she rolled her eyes smiling with one corner of her mouth. Molly had changed her lipstick shade of choice, changed a lot of things over the last couple of months - colored her hair to a more vivid shade of its natural red, something Irene urged was not only becoming but necessary given her fondness for their friendship. Irene had gently guided Molly in the direction of a lot of changes. It was her way of helping Molly through life right now, everything came so naturally to Irene she was a force of nature. Molly wasn't jealous when men looked past her to Irene, it wasn't her friend’s fault. But when men looked at Molly now, thanks in part to some of the gentle adjustments Irene had influenced, it made Molly hyper-aware. Sebastian Moran, however, had always looked at her that way. It made her hungry too, and sick all at once. 

“You're sufficiently safe here on the tube, I still have my knuckles though, you can still borrow them, just in case.” Molly was pleased with her back-comment. She smiled warmly at Sebastian. “Nice to see you again Mr. Moran.”

“Eh...at this point, our third chance meeting, I think it’s safe to call me Seb.” Sebastians face went slightly serious, urging Molly at the propriety and sincerity that he meant by the name shortened. Hoping she would accept it. Gladly, Molly nodded.

“Well, then call me Molly.” She smiled in a friendly way, but felt the small flap-flap of butterfly wings in her stomach still. The train stopped and Molly noticed that both she and Seb were set to exit at the same stop, He had moved aside, blocking people behind himself for Molly to exit first. ‘Gallant and Handsome’ Molly thought, and exited the train minding the gap and walking with a sure footing up the steps toward the street level exit. Seb was only a step behind her. As daylight flooded around them Molly paused on the sidewalk, waiting for Seb to catch up, hoping it wasn't too obvious. Molly was tired of being obvious. Sherlock made her feel obvious, and so many other things at once. ‘No. You're not welcome here right now Sherlock’, dismissing his image as if he passed her on the sidewalk. 

“I'm just on my way to lunch with a old mate of mine from academy.’ Seb offered in explanation for their joined journey. Molly noticed now, not only was Seb wearing a black dress shirt, but light grey dress pants as well, and black oxfords. ‘Nice shoes...nice everything’ Molly thought absently cursing herself as the thought passed through dismissively. 

“Oh, Me too. Mine’s this way…’ Molly offered the direction of her destination and Seb nodded to imply his lied in the same path. They walked, slowly but not too slowly, people dodging around them, it was lunch time in London after all. All sorts of people were on their mobile phones or relaxing on benches eating sack lunch despite the brisk cold of the day.

‘Now or never..’ thought Molly and took the soup ladle that held all the courage she’d found over the last two months, prepared for the humiliation she thought would be at the end of her proclamation to shatter the silence of their shared journey. “I don't know if you’ll be hungry later, or thirsty, but there’s this pub on 12th street, it’s dark and warm, but the people who run it are really friendly...I go there sometimes on a Friday night after work with ...some...people..” ‘God, she was blabbering, that’s what Molly Hooper was, a blabber.’

“I’d enjoy that.” Seb was surprised by this. Molly Hooper, asking him on a date. He smiled and looked at her from one corner of his eye as people urged around them, he and Molly moving forward in their journey as well. More confusing than that, He really *was pleased at the idea of going to a pub, with a girl, doing something well...ordinary again after that unusual night at Starbucks. Molly blushed pleasingly pink. ‘That’s a new shade I like too.’ Seb thought.

Molly smiled, flashing teeth behind her lips, then reigning in her enthusiasm just in time to arrive at the destination Irene had texted her for lunch. “This is me…” Molly said stopping and adjusting her bag. Seb stopped, and nodded to Molly in relinquish of their journey. The cafe door swung open and the pale cool woman who stepped through, smoothed her dark eyes over Seb. 

“Irene, this is Seb...Sebastian Moran. We met at work.” Molly’s smile gentled as she looked over Irene, her friend’s usually neutral features were almost, annoyed? Molly shifted on her shoes absently aware of the soft ‘squeak’ that always followed. In a flash Irene went back to what Molly thought was, her normal air of confidence and shook Sebastian’s hand.

“Mr. Moran.” Irene released his hand and focused squarely on Molly, her red lips curving into a gentle smile that Molly knew Irene saved only for their friendship. This set Molly at ease again. “Ready for lunch? I'm famished as a Tiger.” Irene always had a way of making every word sound like the guilty moan of a secret lover. Something Molly was used to in her friend, but often made others uncomfortable or aroused. Molly measured Seb carefully for his reaction, and was puzzled that his eyes were squarely and softly focused on Molly herself.

“I'll see you Friday then, Aye? 9ish?” Seb said reaching out to squeeze Molly's elbow gently, bringing an ease to the conversation and warmth that moved up Molly's arm to her throat. Molly nodded, but as he released her and started to turn away, Molly stopped mid-step to yell after Seb, she hadn’t told him the name of the pub, She reached out taking hold of his arm, she felt him tense, this surprised her and she quickly let go. He looked from Irene to her startled, but relaxed quickly. 

“The pub, it’s called Red Lion.” Molly winced, as if she had somehow caused pain. Seb’s only reaction was to nod in acknowledgement before fully turning to leave. Irene looped her arm into Molly's elbow and pulled her gently into the cafe. Thursday had been confusing, but still Molly's favorite day.

\------------------

‘Nope, bad idea, terrible. Seriously you’re nutter.’ Molly Hooper had been wrestling all day Friday with this ‘date’ with Sebastian Moran. ‘Seb...call me Seb.’ the thought of their third and latest interaction was the exact reason why she felt sick with anticipation. 

She was at No. 221B Baker street, it was on the way from her apartment, where she had changed, then picked up Rosie from daycare on the way for Dr. John Watson, to deposit her God-daughter to John before resuming her journey to the Red Lion Pub near St. Barts. 

Sherlock didn't have a large mirror, just the required bathroom fixture for shaving. Sherlock didn’t need a bathroom mirror, the man could roll out of bed, run his fingers through the thick mane of black curls and leave his door blazing with good looks, and light Molly's heart on fire. ‘No. Don’t ruin this for me.’ Molly braced her reflection. This would be her last chance to assess her situation...or appearance...depending on your mindset. 

Molly had rushed home to refresh after shift. Changing into what, she hoped, didn't look desperate. Smoothing her sweating hands over the fabric of her black skinny pencil leg pants, then adjusting the shoulders of a square cut boat neck black and white chiffon blouse, the geometric pattern was small, so it didn't make Molly's body feel lost in the scale of it. She assessed her makeup, newly applied black eyeliner, and dark grey shadow made her grey eyes seem larger. ‘Good, I like my eyes.’ Molly thought and smoothed over a new shade of red lipstick Irene had insisted she have in her cosmetic bag. This was the first time she’d ever worn such a bold color, and was surprised and irritated that Irene was right, the color *did look good on her, and make her lips seem larger. 

The ‘click, click’ of the red high heels Molly wore against the tile of Sherlock's bathroom was what threw her off balance the most. It was beyond a risk. Molly always wore oxfords, it was just her thing. But tonight, Molly Hooper was going on her first date, with a real - thankfully breathing and staggeringly handsome - man since Sherlock Holmes phone call had shattered her life. “Damn you bastard.” Molly mumbled under her breath. She pushed the lipstick roughly into her cosmetic bag and zipped it shut. Tucking Wavy red hair behind one ear, to show her mother’s pearl earring caught the light ‘For luck’ Molly thought, and smiled. Molly took a deep and steady breath, grasped the bathroom handle and exited.

*Gasp “Oh Molly dear, you look beautiful!” chimed Mrs. Hudson. Thank God for that woman. Molly smiled, happy she had been the first person to see her exit. ‘Click click’ she treated as quietly as possible across the worn and wooden floors of 221B, turning the corner of the kitchen to grab her purse, Rosie toddled up beside her, latching onto one of Molly's legs, making Molly smile warmly before running a hand over the blonde hairs of her God-daughter. 

“Molly, really, spot on.” Dr. Watson had glided across the room from the desk he and Sherlock shared to scoop Rosie up, resulting in a fit of giggles from the small girl. Molly nodded “Thanks John.” She heaved her bag over one shoulder, glancing at Sherlock who was typing, consumed, with the computer screen before him. Molly frowned. 

“Date?” John asked curiously, glancing in the awkward display of emotion from Molly's frown and Sherlock’s normal oblivion. He adjusted his grip on the wiggling Rosie.

“Yes. Someone I met...at work.” Molly smiled thinking of a less awkward way to describe that she was tonight, going on a date with a handsome man she had first encountered in a body bag of the St. Barts pathology exam room. Before Molly could continue though she was interrupted by the coughing choke of Sherlock Holmes, who had apparently miss-swallowed on the tea Mrs. Hudson had just made John and Sherlock. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. John was annoyed. Depositing Rosie with Mrs. Hudson, he strode over to the mess.

“Really Sherlock, this is my personal laptop, if you wreck this, I’ll be shit for restoring records at my practice.” He looked up at Sherlock's gaping mouth, and realized what had potentially made his closest friend choke. Sherlock Holmes was staring at Molly Hooper.

Molly's eyes widened slightly, ‘Nope. Not possible. Sherlock Holmes was not looking *at her.’ Molly was used to Sherlock looking through her, or looking with purpose of request to her. But she could count the exact number of times he’d ever looked *at her. Thankfully Rosie impatiently squirmed from Mrs. Hudson's arms, launching herself towards the kitchen, and thus breaking all eye contact in the room. The bell rang downstairs, her cab had arrived “That's me, Good night.” Molly quickly said smiling and left, at almost a run, down the stairs and onto the street outside 221B.   
_____________________________


	3. The Meeting Rituals of Males

Rain, all day, all night, all week, endless rain. Sebastian Moran was abscently watching the London pavement below drenched in water from his position in the breeze way, which also overlooked the pathology exam room. It was a Friday evening and He was waiting on Molly to emerge from her lab below. ‘I wonder if I just grabbed her and pushed that petite frame on a 747 if she’d willingly go to bermuda?’ but dismissed the idea as quickly as it came, No Molly liked the work here in London, and London was best…’for now.’ Sebastian frowned at the thought rolling around his mind at the moment, but was brought out of it by the darkening shadow of a male figure near him. Sherlock Holmes.

Seb squared himself, embracing an all-business body language. Holmes noticed. Seb smirked. The man beside him looked irritated, if by some manifestation Seb was blocking a direct path to Sherlock’s desired destination. Seb raised one eyebrow in a questioning sideways glance. His hands were braced on the windowsill in front of him. Sherlock’s hands were folded behind his back, calculating, analyzing...Seb had seen this look before on James Moriarty. 

In retaliation He pushed off the windowsill and turned his back to lean on it instead giving Holmes a fuller view of Sebastian Moran. They were the same height, both athletic enough, but Seb crossed his arms in an implied aggression. The sleeves of his grey wool coat tightened over his now flexed biceps. Seb was a soldier and in a more rough, fighting shape than Holmes ‘the world's only consulting detective’, and now Holmes knew it too. The narrowed eyes of Sherlock Holmes made Seb smile, showing teeth, almost like an invitation to dinner. Holmes rocked on his shoes, mulling this over, analyzing the fight as if it was actually happening before him.

They were interrupted by the soft ‘click click click’ of high heels. Irene Adler sauntered down the breeze way, a look of fascinated enthusiasm flashing across her face. She wore all emerald green. This made her look like some ancient bronze greek statue of venus personified. Then there was the swoosh of the lab door and Molly opposite, small and draped in a pale bright yellow dress, trimmed dark blue peter pan collar that made her pale skin show smoother and bright with an innocent intellectual youth. Both women stopped on either side of the display of manhood before them, both the utter opposite of each other.

Irene broke the silence. “I see you’ve both met now. Shake hands and try not to tear each other to bits. Molly has enough bodies to keep track of just now.” She smiled out of sheer enjoyment, looking through them both to Molly who was stifling a giggle. 

Sherlock glared openly at Irene, some how, some way - this brute blocking his way to the pathology lab was her fault. Molly's movements drew his attention away. She had moved towards the Centurion before him and was resting her small hand onto his arm, causing him to relax under her touch. Sherlock cooled then.

“This is Sebastian, he’s a friend. We’re just about to go with Irene to a show at a gallery Irene knows.” Molly gestured with her free hand in Irenes direction. Irene smiled at Molly with something Sherlock had not seen before between them, affection? He dismissed it. Irene was bisexual, but also known by Sherlock to show her carnal nature at the surface quickly. 

“You're welcome to join us, Sherlock.” She took a few steps too close to Sherlock to hush her voice to an insulating whisper. “It's all in good taste, nothing too hot for your collar.” Irene’s fingers reached up to knowingly ruffle the upturned collar of Sherlocks signature wool coat. Sherlock grasped her fingers tightly and moved them away, he was incontrol of this conversation, not her. 

“Maybe. I am here to pick up the report on the sample I sent you Molly.” His eyes darting back to Molly who was still standing too close to Sebastian Moran, the Centurion made Molly Look even smaller than Sherlock thought possible. Molly's eyes widened in remembrance. “Right! It’s inside, one sec.”

Seb caught the lab door as Molly opened it, “I’ll come, make sure you don’t get pulled into any more work.”

Sherlock knew he saw a flash of insult aimed toward Irene from this Sebastian. The moment they left, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat in a huff, and faced Irene with a questioning glare. “Familiar with the new face that’s following Molly like a shadow of doom?”

Irene was not looking at Sherlock, which was unusual. She strode a few casual clicking steps instead toward the exam observation window. Watching Molly fumble through folders on the lab computer for Sherlock’s report, at her back was Sebastian Moran, watching Molly with curious attention, like he was mesmerized by some exotic ritual. She rolled her eyes and turned on Sherlock in her own huff. “Yes. He’s a friend of the family.” She said dryly as possible.

“Family?” Sherlock questioned. Everyone had family, even Sherlock Holmes - though terrifying and incomprehensibly possible that idea seemed. Mycroft being the worst affirmation of this Sherlock thought. It would reason Irene to have family too. But, Irene was guarded, she was a black mailer by trade, a dominatrix by pleasure & to openly acknowledge a familiar tie before anyone was a sign of uncharacteristic trust. Sherlock listened closer now, Irene squinting at him to analize how to pursue this conversation.

“He served with my brother, in the army.” She strode now back towards Sherlock. “He ran into Molly at the tail end of a mission in London. I only discovered their interaction a few weeks ago. Sebastian is in the private sector, discreet in reputation, and Molly seems to draw his attention.” 

This made Sherlock shift uneasily, He moved away from Irene to watch Molly printing the discovered report. Sebastian Moran had moved closer to Molly, resting both of his hands on her shoulders, He was smelling her hair and Molly was blushing. Irene had moved to watch this as well, her red lips pushed together slightly. “Why don't you join us tonight Sherlock. We’ll put a leash on Sebastian Moran…” She turned her full body towards Sherlock now, lowering her dark lashes on him “...see how He moves under restrain” She smiled suggestively, and tilted her chin up, Sherlock noticed, but was analyzing the couple below, now rubbing his bottom lip with his knuckle. “Hmm...I will.” He said in resolution, Molly had broken free of Moran picking up the report and moving back towards the stairs to the breezeway, Moran was looking at Molly's back the way Sherlock had often seen Irene Adler look at him.  
_____________

Walking into a long narrow art gallery, Molly swallowed despite the dryness of her throat. The car ride over from St. Barts had been - tense? God, why was Sherlock Holmes such a child! Damn him and his opinions. Damn him and his pestering presence….damn him for being so wonderful. This made Molly annoyed and melt all at once. 

A waiter had passed by to offer glasses of champagne. She grabbed for one, downing it all at once. She should not be drinking, but a little liquid courage was the best prescription at hand. Her hands trembled, but steadied after setting the empty glass down with the next waiter. Her eyes sauntered over the displays of photographs. A brochure now flashed in front of her, she looked up, and smiled quietly to Sebastian. He didn't deserve Sherlock’s analyzation Molly thought, but everyone was subject to Sherlock Holmes as a puzzle to be pieced together. 

Molly took the brochure, the title read: ‘Life in journey” Photos on the beginning carnal, sensual, familial innocence of life and death.’ 

Sebastian was now drinking his own share of champagne. Habits of his profession saw his eyes darting around for each exit point, each potential threat, or weapon, they then rested on Irene Adler at a distance, he sat down his second empty champagne glass and winced his gaze off of hers, she was daring him to come off his mark. Bringing up his nickname in special forces when they met at the cafe, and now pulling Sherlock Holmes around in this game of hers...she was sick. But she was the client.

He heard Molly sigh. Was she really oblivious to all of this? She is friends with Holmes, and Adler...were high functioning sociopaths normally her type? Watching her again with a sharp eye, He was good at watching people, it came with the job of being a sniper. Picking up on the little things about her, the distance of her stride between steps, knowing if she would bend down or straighten up before Molly knew it herself. That sort of premonition was to calculate the exact right moment to take the….”Fuck.” He said out loud.

Molly turned a deep shade of red, the exhibit wound through the gallery, all the photos and lighting changing through the artists concepts of emotion in life - she had been abscently wandering, with everyone else, before realizing she was now taking in a photo of two people having passionate sex, it wasnt pornographic, but close enough. When she heard Seb over her shoulder say the exact emotion the photo was meant to convey out loud. She laughed. 

A laugh escaped Molly again, it was unguarded in an immature moment and stopped as soon as it’s volume caused a few of the other people around to gawk disapprovingly towards her. She looked at Seb who was madly annoyed by the attention his echoing voice had drawn.

“Yes, I do think that’s the idea, spot on Mr. Moran - the photographer is a close friend of mine - he doesn’t sound as enraptured as you though...in the moment of ...fucking.” Irene Adler said with a note of amusement, sensuality and seriousness.

Molly let out a sighing giggle again, quieter this time. Seb adjusted the black tie he wore, glaring at Irene silently saying ‘Fuck off’ and moved away from the madding trio he found himself with tonight. Molly was moving on slowly as well, Sebastian noticed she was running her fingers along the navy peter pan collar of her dress, her grey eyes focused on the exhibit, biting her bottom lip in study in...sadness? He focused on what she looked at, a couple - holding hands, children in the distance. He cleared his throat behind her. “Pretty notion...fairy tales...fables...but they don't last long...every story has an end, Aye?” He nodded to the next series, focus around adultery, abuse, divorce, broken hearts. Then looking beyond Molly he saw Holmes, focused on this particular set of the exhibit with a steeled eye.

Molly breathed heavily “Yes. I know.” She was now looking at Sherlock and Seb nodded, figuring out why Dr. Hooper let this prick of a detective into her Labs, at first he thought it was because Holmes was so easy at the art of manipulation, it occurred to him now that it was Dr. Molly Hooper who was trying to manipulate something. He smirked, ‘Figures, everyone has a game’ He thought cynically. But in the back of his mind, Seb felt a wounding, for Molly. 

The ‘date’ with Dr. Molly Hooper had been surreal to Sebastian. It was quiet at the pub. They talked more, drank a lot of good guinness - well he did, and he even escorted Molly across town to her apartment, where like some idiotic school boy on holiday - Sebastian gave Molly a soft, sincere good night kiss. All new experiences for him. All very vanilla experiences for him - vanilla was exotic though - from mysterious jungles, Sebastian thought it was unfair to categorize vanilla so unsympathetic. 

Molly smelled like vanilla and lemon. She made him hungry, but put him at an odd quiet ease. How could anyone not want to be Molly Hooper's friend? He thought she looked surprised at his gesture, flattered, and when she pushed her lips back against his, he knew she had enjoyed kissing him maybe? Sebastian never wondered if someone liked the way he kissed, it was absurd. 

Molly wandered deeper into the exhibit, light above her changed from a warm yellow to cold blue - this next set focused on the final obsolete end of life. Young or old - vibrant or tired - everyone died sometime. Molly was shivering, she felt warm hands glide over her arms, it was Irene behind her, Molly smiled and nodded in reassurance to her. Irene knew, John Watson knew - that was enough for Molly. Telling anyone else would bring a fuss that Molly didn't want. 

But fuss found it’s way to the gallery around her, the windows outside flooded with police lights. Sherlock Holmes was standing in front of the final photo - a dead woman - Molly blinked, she knew this person...it was Mrs. Marschall! 

Hours later, in the aftermath of a whirl of police, Lestrade included and reporters, Sherlock Holmes explained with the report in his hands that Mrs. Marschall was the mother of the photographer for this exhibit - but had abandoned him young to the streets after secretly abusing him for years, holding a blazing hatred for the woman - and an elaborate plan that involved an old Christmas Ham and a bag of glass...No...she had to hear that wrong - didn’t she?

Irene had disappeared, Molly remembered some hurried excuse given from her, and Sebastian was nowhere to be found. Molly was now rummaging through the coat rack for her tan wool pea coat, having it in hand she spun around to see Sherlock starring, his coat on, collar flipped up and glaring towards her. Molly glared back after gathering her surprise “Christ...Sherlock.” Her hand went for her heart, beating with surprise, then tossing on her coat with irritation. 

“I've called you a cab - I need access to another body first thing.” Sherlock said curtly, He whirled around and left Molly behind. 

“Bastard.” Molly hissed under her breath sure that Sherlock heard it and ignored her, but she took the cab he called for her. Sliding into the back, she decided to take her edge off by going to St. Barts. Tonight she wanted to be busy again, the calm humm of overhead lighting as she used a blade to precisely uncover details and secrets about her patient’s lifeless body. The door opposite her in the back opened and in slid Sebastian Moran. Molly’s eyes narrowed as he took charge of her cab driver to an address that Molly assumed was his own. “Sherlock called this cab for me.” Molly said irritated.

“Aye, well - I don’t see Mr. Holmes sittin’ here...you’re with me tonight darlin’.” Sebastian was smiling, and teasing - flashing the white toothed grin of a Tiger daring it’s prey to play with him in this game of ‘cat and mouse’. Molly relaxed her stare and pushing her lips, let out her breath in surrender, slouching her body against the seat in relaxation.

It was very sterile. Sebastian Moran's apartment. No photos, no souvenirs, just the basics you would need to function. He tossed his key card, wallet and watch onto the table inside the elevator which had direct access to his apartment. Molly's oxfords landed softly on the polished floor with their familiar squeak. They hadn’t talked the whole journey in the cab, or the elevator ride up. After removing his suit jacket and tie, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his collar he moved towards Molly, not asking, but removing her coat and discarding it with his. Then moved towards the kitchen. “Sit.” it was instruction more than offer.

Molly had enough with orders tonight, first Sherlock, now Sebastian, arching her eye brow she ignored him, and moved forward to the floor to ceiling windows of his flat. It was nothing like 221B, or Mollys modest basement flat. It was posh, and masculine in a modern-minimalistic way. She folded her arms across her chest, but turned when she heard the clatter of porcelain against glass. Sebastian had brought food, roughly tossed onto a plate, grapes, bits of cheese, and crackers - he held out a bottle of water to her, searching over her at length to suggest he didn't mean anything by his earlier command to be demanding.

Molly relaxed and accepted the water, moving across the room to now sit, as wanted on the modern grey sofa that took up the middle of the vast space. She crossed her ankles and opening the bottle drank heavily not realizing until now how dry her throat was. Sebastian was watching her again, she could feel it.

She was thin, maybe thinner than when he first met her, her cheek bones looked somehow sharper. He motioned to the plate of food, they hadn’t ate dinner - maybe Molly ate at the Lab? “I know you don't have a queasy stomach after finding out you’ve been guest to a murder’s exhibit - being friends with the likes of Holmes..eat.” 

Molly smiled and took some grapes, abscently rolling them around in her fingers and mouth before squashing them. It made Sebastian hungry.

He sat down beside her now, drinking water. Molly looked up at him, she did want to be busy...with something...someone? But was it cruel? She didn't use people, knowingly. There was Tom - once - they almost made it the whole way, engaged and all. But Molly knew it wouldn't work, not once Sherlock was back, it was just an illusion or distraction for a time - is that what this was with Seb? 

‘No,’ she thought. He ruffled her a bit, but she had ruffled him back a few times too she thought. She slid in her seat, moving to grab a piece of cheese.

“No, Its life that makes me queasy.” Molly said in a factual tone. She mean it, Sebastian knew she did and he reached for food as well. Sighing as he hate. 

“Aye, always had trouble getting close-up too - guess that’s one reason I liked the military. Very formal, no questions answered with ‘maybe’. Everyone with orders not choices.” Sebastian was feeling self conscious about this sudden philosopher he found himself showing, but continued on, studying Molly as he did. “I’m not active anymore since Afghanistan, got some distance for a while, being close to people in the city again has been harder than I thought.” he rubbed the non-existent puncture wound that he knew Molly would recognize on his neck, and was relieved when her face lightened.

“Hmm...well I like the closeness...here…” She swallowed water again, Molly Hooper was flirting, heavily. She had spent a good deal of her time around Irene Adler recently, the personality of strong friends always showed up in your interactions with others at some point. Molly meant it though, as herself, she did like talking to Sebastian, but lacked the pushing instinct someone like Irene had. 

Molly didn't need to push though, Sebastian did it for her, setting down the water he reached with both hands to clasp her face, drawing her up, kissing her with shyness, then hunger. Molly was hungry too.  
\-------------------------

She groaned...eyes plastered shut with sleepy mucus at each corner she rubbed her fingers against them...her legs were cold and sore but her back felt warm. There was a weight at her waist and she felt breath stir beside her Mother’s pearl earring. The warm weight stirred and that’s when Molly felt fingers smooth upwards over her breast. She was naked. Images flooded from the night before and she held her breath.

“Morning…” hummed an Irish accent in her ear. Sebastians hand and body glided away then, she sensed him roll over and stand, hearing the slap of his feet against the tile as he headed in his direction of purpose. 

Molly rolled over too, lifting the sheet to confirm the worst and best of last night's events - they’d done it. *IT - “so immature…” she said quietly to herself. Her hand went up to the mess that was her hair, seeing him come back she ran her fingers through it, unashamedly watching his naked body slide back under sheets with her, his feet were cold now as they ran beside her legs. Molly shivered.

Sebastian sighed contentedly, almost purring to himself, crossing his hands behind his head on the pillow then turning to look over Molly, smiling at her. Then he turned on his side, and lifted the sheet to run fingers over a scar at the side of one of her breasts “What’s this from?” 

Molly pushed his fingers away and pulled the sheet tighter, sitting up tensely trying to speak but failing. Sebastian’s eyebrows shot up and he sat up a bit too, smiling with reassurance he pointed to his shoulder, pocked with scars Molly had noticed but not thought much of the night she met him, naked, in a body bag. “I have tons of scars..stories...memories..” Sebastian was trailing off trying to show her he was just curious about the woman beside him in an innocent way.

Molly looked over Seb sympathetically - how? How do you break this to someone you just slept with the first time - it was cruel. Her eyes winced, - ‘straight on with the news then’ she thought resolutely.

“I have breast cancer. I've had the mass removed, and I’ve been seeing Dr. Watson for chemo treatment every wednesday since late last fall.” She shut her eyes tight, facing away from Sebastian waiting for the reaction - disgust, abuse, pitty.

“Ok.” He sounded so matter of fact. It almost shocked himself. Sebastian thought that explained so much about Molly, her weight, her fatigue, how she avoided alcohol - something that would interact with other medication she was on. It explained why some moments she was desperately sad, then unabashedly confident, followed by an eerie calm - all things Sebastian had seen Molly go through in an instant. All things he felt rack through her body like a shutter when they were pressed together last night. He ran a hand through his hair, then reached over and pulled her face towards him, running his thumb over her bottom lip - he felt it shake a bit before her eyes opened. He looked straight on into them and nodded to her, his face strong and accepting.   
“OK” Sebastian said again.  
Molly's eyes welled with tears and then she blinked them away - Seb *was used to death. Molly didn't fully understand how or why, but she found this confidence he gave off as a comfort - not pity. She folded into him, and Saturday melted away.

_________


	4. Calculating Division

Molly was drenched in sweat. Pausing at a park water fountain to drink heavily. Molly hadn’t gone far - and was already exhausted. But John Watson had urged that physical exercise would help her body stay fit enough to survive the chemo treatments she was receiving now every two weeks. She was in the thick of her breast cancer treatment now. Diet was the other side of the equation - though she had very little appetite. Sebastian took care of that. Molly smiled thinking of the last few weeks they’d spent together. It seemed impossible. Molly wouldn’t say she was in Love - it was too soon yet - she’d only been honestly in love once, with Sherlock. A shiver ran down Molly’s back, thinking of Sherlock. She used the collar of her shirt to wipe her face and neck, then started walking back towards her apartment.

She stopped just short of her front door, standing there looking irritated and worriedly pacing, was Sherlock. “Sherlock - what are you doing here? Are Rosie and John OK?” Molly began to panic.

Sherlock looked up at her with irritation and walked towards her with determination “I could ask where you’ve been? You haven't been at the pathology lab for weeks - I’ve been reduced to work with Anderson!”

Molly brushed past him with a scoff. John had insisted for the next several rounds of treatment she take off work the week of her session - for days afterwards she would feel drained of all energy. Irene and Sebastian had taken turns staying with her. “I had too much vacation time stored up.” she said frankly. It was true, she never used time - other than for taking care of Rosie after Molly died. 

She pushed the key to her apartment into the lock, Sherlock was on her heels. “So you chose to spend it wasting your time by exercising, really Molly you’re avoiding work to hide away in your mouse hole?” He was thoroughly infuriating. 

Molly turned on her heels and pushed herself into Sherlock’s face - seething “You don’t get to decide what I do with my time. I do.” Molly took in his look of shock, and then resolve. She backed up, and went inside her apartment, not inviting him in. She could see through the window that he stood there for some time, probably trying to decide if she had lost her mind, before he eventually skulked off. Molly bit her bottom lip, and went to take a shower, crying under the water.

\------------

His case was going nowhere, the puzzle pieces were all there - where was that last clue? Sherlock looked over the evidence collage that was plastered on his wall, he was missing something - but what? Hands ran over his bare shoulders, and fingernails raked over his skin - Irene. She leaned into his ear - “You need to go over *physical evidence to figure this puzzle out.” Irene’s suggestion was thinly veiled, but still - she was right - he did need better analysis of the bodies left behind. They had spent much of the last few days satisfying the physical. Irene moved to sit in his lap, wearing only Sherlock’s favorite robe.  
“I know, but Anderson is the slowest and most inept pathologist in possibly the country - the connection between the flexibility of the body postmortem must have something to do with this - but what?” Sherlock was still focused on his thought, despite Irene mewing in his ear trying to distract him. Damn Molly Hooper's sudden ‘vacation’. 

Rosie suddenly burst through the closed door and into the room, followed closely by Molly. Irene jumped up from Sherlock’s lap and behind him, Sherlock froze in his seat. 

“Rosie! I said wait and knock!” Molly looked exacerbated by the toddler’s energy “We don't know if daddy is here yet…” Molly's eyes took in the scene before her. 

Sherlock and Irene were both empty of words. Rosie had torn through 221B Baker Street looking for her father John. Mrs. Hudson was now coming through the door behind Molly, and took command of the toddler “Come on Rosie - lets go have some ginger biscuits - and wait for Daddy, I’m sure he’ll be here soon.” She looked at Sherlock in scold and then at Molly unsure, but pulled Rosie along and closed the door behind her.

Irene spoke first “Molly, it’s Wednesday - I thought…”

“Next week. Everything’s been rearranged, remember? No...I can tell you’ve probably lost track of time.” Molly looked around - Sherlock’s apartment was strewn with half-empty take out containers and the sink was full of dirty dishes. Obviously the two of them had been shacked up together for a few days. “Well, I’ll leave Rosie with Mrs. Hudson - I'm sure John will be along soon.” Molly said dryly, and turned to leave.

“Please, stay.” Irene moved to stand between Molly and Sherlock. But Molly shook her head no and turned to face them again. Her grey eyes looked empty, from Irene to Sherlock.

“You’ll both be relieved that I’m going into work tonight. I’ve ran out of time - you see…” Molly choked a bit on those last words and Irene’s eyes filled with tears. “I need to be in the Lab. It’s where I belong.” She turned around again.

Sherlock hated when Molly expressed how little she thought of herself, he looked away from her and closed his eyes swallowing hard. “Don't say that Molly, you know...”

Molly cut him off “Yes. I know.” She opened the door and stepped out “I wish you both all happiness. You both deserve it.” Then closed the door and went down the stairs and out into the heat of the afternoon, passing a confused John Watson on her way out. 

Irene watched Molly walk down the street from Sherlock’s window, her hand over her mouth. Then Irene looked down the alley across the street to Sebastian, and nodded. He was glaring at her in judgement. She turned away when John entered the room “Is Molly OK?” was all he said.  
\----------------

Sebastian sighed heavily, breathing in the vanilla scent of Molly's hair as he pulled her from beside him into his lap. It was a warm evening, and they’d decided to stop at the park to watch the ducks muck around in one of the ponds on the way back to Molly’s place. Molly had been distant lately. Sebastian knew why - but didn’t dare reveal that he’d been following her, daily. Life was complicated enough - he just wanted to steal away a few more moments of ignorance. Sebastian wanted to magine that life could be taken at face value for once.

“Should I ‘kiss the girl?’” He teased in Molly’s ear and kissed the top of her head. Molly smiled “I really have to stop making jokes to my patients when they’re on the table - tell a guy one* little mermaid reference and it’s repaid for weeks in teasing.” 

Sebastian chuckled “Aye, well - I hope not many pathology cases respond back.” Molly settled back against him a bit more and laughed along with him “Yes - usually I work only with a ‘cold’ audience.” Sebastian raised his eyebrows in smirk and took Molly’s chin in his hand to tilt her face towards him, kissing her deeply. “I’ll be a warm body for ye.” he said, and kissed her again.

This time Molly hesitated to kiss him back, and he drew back from her to examine her face. “Sebastian, you’ve been wonderful. Im almost suspicious of how this...you..me..even came about.” She pushed off of him and stood, starting to walk towards her apartment again. Sebastian followed, apprehensively.

“I’m not trying to scare ye off, I know I can be...aggressive.” Sebastian felt an urgency rising up in his gut. He was actually scared of what she was going to say. He hadn’t felt fear in a long time - He didn’t like it.

“No, I just want to apologize.” Molly turned out of the park entrance and onto the street, but paused to reach for Sebastian’s hand, interlocking fingers with him. “I've not really given you much of a chance - I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop I guess.” She looked at him with worry but continued “I’m not sure if my cancer will go away - John, Dr. Watson, seems to think things are going well. But I’m sure you’ve noticed...I’ve been distant lately...it's just that…” 

Sebastian pulled Molly to a halt. “I don't want to talk about this. You’re with me. I’m with you. That’s enough.” He kissed her hand and looked into her face deeply with sincerity “Really. I spend my life in the moment. It’s all I count on. And the moments I have with you are a bright spot for me, in the war...and after...life was dark. Then you turned on the light.” Sebastian took a deep breath hoping she wouldn’t make him continue. 

Molly squeezed Sebastian’s hand for reassurance “OK.” was all that was said then. They continued walking into the dark towards her apartment in silence. 

That night they made slow love to one another, silently deepening their bond. Knowing that they found in each other something they lacked their whole lives. A loyalty that truly meant something.

\-----------

The earliest of the trees were just beginning to turn from summer to fall. Vendors at the markets were peddling the first harvest of apples and late produce. Molly though was walking with purpose. She reached the posh neighborhood that Irene lived. And walked the steps of her lavish apartment to knock on the front door. After a few moment’s the black door swung open and Irene was standing there with a wide smile or surprise and relief spread over her face. “Molly, please come in.” She moved aside and Molly entered.

“Your place is very nice Irene.” Molly took off her bag and handed it to Irene, she was here to make peace. Irene nodded and took her bag setting it aside on a marble topped table. 

“Yes, well - it’s a bit lonely sometimes puttering around, but it’s been in my family for generations.” She rubbed her palms together, they were sweating. Molly meant so much to Irene, as much or more than Sherlock. “Ill ring for tea - Your probably want to see what I managed to bring from Oxford...your parent’s things?” Molly nodded and walked towards a sitting room that Irene was ushering her towards.

They took tea, and talked. Molly and Irene went through the 4-5 boxes that contained all that was left to Molly. Giggling over old photographs and enjoying one another’s company. Molly had a knack for relaxing people - she was so genuine with her affection and words that it was hard to keep up a facade. As time passed, they had dinner and listened to old records, and Molly thumbed through the pages of ‘Pericles’ her father’s favorite play. The pages yellowed and musty with time and use. Several of them had notes or underlines. Her father loved this book.

The clock chimed midnight, and Molly looked up to see Irene staring at her. She smiled and stood. “I’m on tonight at the hospital - covering. I better head that way.” Irene followed her towards the door. “I’ll figure out some way to have those boxes brought to my place -” 

Irene shook her head “I’ll have them delivered tomorrow.” Irene then embraced Molly, and kissed her temple, when she pulled away she wiped the smudge of her signature red lipstick from Molly’s skin. “I’m so glad you came. Being your friend is my honor.” Irene stepped back and Molly nodded smiling.

“I’ve missed you too.” She pulled her bag open and pushed the book into it, securing the top again and turned to head out the door.

\--------------------------------  
Molly shifted in her bed, she was sore but mostly tired to her very bones. This had been her last treatment. She ached in a way she didn’t think was possible. If the chemo had done it’s job - they would know in a month. 

Her doorbell rang, and she wrenched herself out of bed, pulling on the robe from the back of her bedroom door, Molly wandered like a zombie through her open living/kitchen. She raised her arms in front of herself “ungh...brains…..” doing her best walking-dead. When she opened the door, it was Sherlock.

He pushed past her, not waiting an invitation, and she sighed, closing the door behind him. Sherlock slammed a tan file folder onto her kitchen counter and huffed, “That idiot Anderson can’t even run a simple diagnostic! Enough is enough Molly, you must* come to the lab. This case is about to…” Sherlock finally took in her appearance and was startled. 

Molly self-consciously tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. She knew that the treatments were starting to show - but it was always worse at the end of treatment day. She licked her lips and crossed her arms. “Im sorry Sherlock. Just a couple of days and I’ll…”

Sherlock’s face went sickly green, he walked towards her and took both of her hands in his. “Yes. It will wait.” he said quietly.

The door opened, Sebastian walked in carrying a couple of shopping bags. He looked at Sherlock with a steel gaze, and sat down the bags just inside the door. 

“Molly? Doing alright love?” He didn’t take his eyes off Sherlock, Sebastian was looking graver by the moment, and moved towards Molly as Sherlock dropped her hands.

Molly swayed on her feet, thankful that as Sherlock stepped away, Sebastian’s hands were at her waist and shoulder to steady her “Yes, Sherlock just bought some diagnostic tests for me to go over - for a case.” 

Sebastian scooped her up in his arms “I think rest for now…” He nodded towards the door “You know the way out…” Not waiting for Sherlock to get the hint - Sebastian turned and carried Molly to her bed, pulling off her robe before laying her down. She fell asleep instantly. Sebastian kissed her softly and walked back out into the kitchen, past Sherlock, who hadn’t left yet, and picked up the shopping bags. He carried them into the kitchen and began to unpack. Not acknowledging Sherlock’s presence.

“Has she seen a doctor yet?” Sherlock asked coldly. 

Sebastian huffed “Molly can take care of herself.” He looked from his task and back to Sherlock narrowing his eyes “And anything she can’t take care of is why I’m here.” He tossed the shopping bag into a basket Molly kept at the end of the counter. He then leaned back against the sink crossing his arms with resolution. Sebastian was unmovable from Molly’s life now, regardless of what Sherlock Holmes thought about it.

Sherlock’s hands balled into two fists. He glared at Sebastian “There’s no need to defend that Molly is a highly capable person.” Sherlock said carefully “But her *friend’s will be there to take up any oversight for her well being, we are *fiercely protective of one another after all.”

Molly’s cat purred and rubbed around Sebastian’s ankles, he bent down picking it up and scratching under its chin. “Yes, Molly knows that.” The cat rubbed into Sebastian’s fingers with familiarity. “Molly also knows that *I have no... division….in my position in her life.” Sebastian sat the cat down in front of it’s food dish and walked past Sherlock to the door, opening it. 

“Good day, Mr. Holmes” And leaned on the door to add weight to his dismissal. Sherlock left then. Sebastian shut the door behind him with a closed lipped smile.


End file.
